Brother of the King
by caitythelioness
Summary: The witches' prophecy is cyclical, and Macbeth was the first. What happens now, when Donalbain and Fleance ride to the castle of Malcolm, to celebrate the death of the tyrant?


**The Brother of the King  
**

I am Donalbain, son of Duncan, brother of the King of Scotland.

It has been four and twenty days since the defeat of the traitor and tyrant Macbeth at Dunsinane; the murders of my father and the castle of Macduff avenged twofold. I ride today with Fleance, son of Banquo. He accompanies me to the castle of my brother, some leagues away.

Looking at him now, my heart doth beat a pattern of sympathy. His frame is small on his horse, his head stooped – though his character has been mark'd only with a dozen years, his shoulders bow as though the very weight of the world press upon them.

Feeling the keenness of my gaze, he looks up at me and I smile kindly at him. I too have lost my father, and this sadness lies close but dormant in my heart. I am much more learn'd in time than he, so young to have lost such a crucial mentor. I have been in correspondence with Lady Banquo, her own self stricken with grief, requesting the acceptance of her offer that her son should ride with me to the hospitality of Malcolm. I need no guide, but I knew her intent lay with the hope that I could intervene in the course that darkness takes with his heart.

I fear, though, that I am lacking in my duty. We have exchanged few expressions since we first took saddle – he remark'd on the fine weather and I agreed; we are in for a fair journey, we've a good wind at our backs and now and again the sun removes her robe of clouds to beat upon our brows.

"Some misfortune will soon befall us." His voice was barely above that of a hatchling sparrow, and thus I nearly missed it."I pray thee, speak again?"

Now he raised his head. "Observe the horses. They are restless. Some evil lies ahead."

Indeed my horse did stir, its sturdy foot unsure and its mane wild. But it was not my horse that disturbed me – more the sooth and sureness of his speech.

"Nay," said I, trying as much to settle his thought as much as mine. "Nothing regretful shall become of you, at least, not with the present company."

But even as these warm words rolled off my tongue, they became frozen – for the air suddenly became still and close, the sun retreated into her battlements and no sound or noise of bird nor insect could be heard.

A lump of discomfort grew in my throat.

"Nay - " I began again, but before I even spoke an unseen raven, resting in the tree that guarded the road, rose up; spreading its ominous wings, it told of darkness and evil in its one long, harsh note.

A sudden terror seized me and I spurred my horse. "Come!" I cried to Fleance, who was not as deft with his horse as I. "Come! We must fly this evil place!"

My horse let out a fretted scream and together we charged along the dusty road, in our haste forgetting sensibility and reason, leaving Fleance alone. Ahead our path took a sharp turn and we made haste towards it, hooves clattering against the loose stones. Around the corner, more trees stood as sentries to travelers, and tussocks of grass tumbled in and out of the aging roots. We gathered pace, green slipping away through the corners of my eyes, some sudden and urgent fear still burning inside me and driving me onwards.

And then, all of the sudden, it was as if time itself was made dull; thick and slow it did pass and the sun, usually sprightly and fast-footed, seemed to slow its step to half. For a moment at this I puzzled – but then a hasty emergence of three figures clad my heart in a cloak of fright.

Straggled they were; their robes (if indeed they were once robes) were torn and stained, nothing natural about their appearance. Their hair was matted and wild, their backs bent and their beards tangled with dried filth. My horse reared and bolted and in my state I fell, striking my head on a stone.

At once their crooked eyes were upon me and in shame I tried to cover my face, but there was something in the gaze of the smallest one that held me horribly transfixed.

"I see the desires of your heart, Donalbain, son of Duncan, brother of the King of Scotland. And they are black, as black as the night."

I did not know how she knew my name, yet her voice scratched against mine ears as the mongrel cat at the kitchen door. The second spoke, with similar speech.

"You're jealousy gleams as green as the jewel in your brother's crown. Just as you are Donalbain and Malcolm, so too you could be called Cain and Abel. You are brothers, but some unbidden ill wish is buried, soon to be unsheathed. It has crossed your mind once, twice and now a third time."

The last now crept closer to me and though I did shy away, her speech did not evade me.

"Once, when you were a child. Your father took him hunting and left you behind; gave him his favorite bow that he had promised to you, did he not? And you felt then as you feel now, Malcolm as King and once again you are insignificant."

Now all three witches clamored around me.

"Hail Donalbain, King of Scotland!"

"For this title you shall have, should the right application be made."

"Hail, Donalbain, King!"

Their enterprise did not sit well with me, yet even as their horrid voices rose and fell, some dark beast did stir in my being, and, shaking off its shackles of sleep, it did make my limbs heavy with desire, rage and jealousy. Time did then seem to regain its pace and hearing hoof beats I turned to see Fleance charging with might and valor along the road.

"Be gone foul beasts! My father did not fear you and nor shall I! I scorn your prophecies, they are but tales to scare women and children!" He cried, and as I looked up at him the sun burst forth from her coverings and dazzled my eyes; I saw not a boy but a great King, magnificent and righteous, much more righteous than I.

"Beware the boy, Donalbain! He has greatness in him that you have not foreseen!"

"Seven after him and he is the first!"

"He is the first of eight, seven kings after him, so beware!"

The three made towards me, but Fleance rode between us.

"Be gone hags! Or feel my sword!" With a sudden movement he revealed a blade, till then hidden beneath a traveling blanket, and swung it over his head.

The witches cackled, clapping their gnarled and knotted hands. "Much lesser than Donalbain, but greater! Hail the true king!"

And upon that last presentation, all three disappeared from sight. It was only then I realized that blood had trickled upon my brow and I smeared it with my hand, leaving a sticky legacy upon my fingers.

"Sir?" Fleance looked questioningly at me when I did not rise.

The words of the witches rang loudly in my ears and I hurriedly tried to mask the spite and suspicion in my eyes. The beast inside me stirred at the sight of this noble King and settled to feed on my malcontent.

"Beware the boy. Hail the true King."

I accepted the offered hand after momentary pause and allowed him to help me to my feet.

"Shall we continue or rest awhile?" Already the boy had discarded the prophecy, I saw it in him. I would not be so foolish.

A smile crept to my lips, sincerity laced with the sinister.

"Onwards I think. I'll walk along side awhile, until my horse returns."

Already I felt the weight of the golden circlet upon my brow, felt the heavy rings on my fingers, the comfort of a great sword in my hands and Scotland at my feet.

"Onwards, to the castle of the King. Onwards, to my brother."


End file.
